


Teaser Tom

by ros3bud009



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Beast Mode Sex, Breeding Kink, Infertility, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minimus Ambus's Irreducible Alt Mode Is a Turbofox, Ravage is Hot Sorry Not Sorry, Secret Alt Mode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 01:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20331679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ros3bud009/pseuds/ros3bud009
Summary: ::You’re in heat.::Minimus’s expression twisted, leaning further towards shame. For a moment, Ravage wondered if he would try to deny it, but Minimus seemed aware that there was no hiding what was very obvious to any beast-form Cybertronian.::Who else knows?::





	Teaser Tom

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warning:  
-heat related consent issues. Nothing especially bad in this case but you know  
-interfacing while in beast-mode but like. They're fully sentient. It's no biggie.  
-briefly mentioned suggestion of kinda incest, but they're robots and also it didn't happen
> 
> I don't even remember how this came to mind. But I've always been fascinated by the idea of Minimus's irreducible form also having a beast-mode like Dominus. And then I was thinking about Ravage. And now we're here, writing heat fanfiction with a heavy helping of themes surrounding secrets and trust and identity oops.
> 
> ALSO yes i know that Bob and Ravage weren't on the ship at the same time. But my fic my rules.
> 
> And no, I won't apologize for writing Ravage so hot. At least, I think I did. Hopefully.

“Thank you for coming.”

Ravage flicked his tail irritably, but even so he still settled on Megatron’s shoulder without needlessly digging his claws in. At least Megatron recognized the inconvenience of his request.

“You said that insecticon wouldn’t be here.”

“And he isn’t,” Megatron replied, as if the whole command center didn’t _reek_. But Ravage supposed he couldn’t truly blame Megatron. Even if somehow the large mech were to acquire Ravage’s powerful nose, he still wasn’t built to recognize this particular scent.

Ugh. If that hideous whelp scrambled out of whatever hovel he was hiding in hoping Ravage would give him relief, he would sorely regret it. Ravage had been pent up for three days straight from the stray pheromones that managed find him where he had been hiding away from them in Megatron’s quarters, and he was _not _pleased about the situation. As if he would ever lower himself to answering that brat’s heat.

“It’s Minimus,” Megatron explained, keeping his voice so quiet that Ravage more felt than heard it. “He’s been acting oddly. He’s distracted, making mistakes, and is running far hotter than usual. However, he refuses to visit the medbay, insisting he’s not ill.”

“Why not order him to go anyway?”

“He’s not the type to ignore any sort of malfunction in his frame, and he seems…” Megatron paused, searching for the word. “Well, he seemed _embarrassed_ when I brought it up. I realize I should press the issue, but—”

Oh. Well.

Ravage felt rather foolish to have not considered.

Megatron and, really, any other crew member would have never noticed the scent. It simply wasn’t a part of their programming. They lacked sensors capable of reacting to the pheromones of a beast-mode in heat.

Because _only _a beast-mode would go into heat, and _only_ another beast-mode would be able to relieve that heat. What need would mechs like them have for such sensors?

But Ravage had forgotten that the insecticon whelp wasn’t the only other beast-mode on the ship. Though no one could blame him for his forgetfulness considering he wasn’t _supposed _to know. If it weren’t for his nose, he would have never discovered the secret.

Ravage leapt from Megatron’s shoulder without a word, landing silently and stalking across the floor towards his target. Each step further cemented Ravage’s theory as he grew closer and closer to the source of the scent. And when he jumped up onto the keyboard Minimus was using – foolish, desperate Minimus, burying his true form under layer upon layer of armor, as if the visage of Ultra Magnus could hide the smell – the large mech startled.

Not that the startling was surprising. There wasn’t a mech on the Lost Light that Ravage couldn’t startle.

It was the way that Minimus’s optics flared, but they didn’t return to their normal brightness with recognition. If anything, the typically stiff mech went stiffer, the line of his mouth thinning further and his spark racing so hard in his chest that no doubt Soundwave could have heard it from across the universe.

And no, his optics didn’t dim.

If anything, they became blindingly bright in some amalgamation of instinct-driven arousal and the fear of being caught.

Ravage kept Minimus’s gaze as he sat and opened his internal comms.

::You’re in heat.::

Minimus’s expression twisted, leaning further towards shame. For a moment, Ravage wondered if he would try to deny it, but Minimus seemed aware that there was no hiding what was very obvious to any beast-form Cybertronian.

::Who else knows?::

::No one. Just me.::

Finally those wide shoulders eased a bit, and Ravage knew an opportunity when he saw one. ::Don’t move,:: he ordered before leaping, landing carefully on Minimus’s shoulder. Fortunately for them both, Minimus followed orders well; the only movement his frame made was a shudder that had nothing to do with fear.

However, the shuddering worsened when Ravage carefully circled his helm, using shoulders and collar and back as pedeholds, rubbing his cheek and neck on whatever part of Minimus he could reach. Ravage let his plating ruffle, releasing excess of his own scent, at once inviting and marking Minimus.

::I can end it for you. If you would like.::

Minimus managed to keep his keen in response silent, but Ravage felt it reverberate under his pedes.

::And if I don’t?::

At once, Ravage moved to simply sit on Minimus’s shoulder, his armor slicking back down.

::Then I leave you alone. Though I suggest you finish out your heat in your own quarters. Mechs are noticing.::

Minimus turned his helm to look at Ravage who in turn tipped his helm minutely in Megatron’s direction. Whatever Minimus saw there, he quickly looked back towards his screen, his frame managing to heat a couple extra degrees from his embarrassment.

Ravage let a chuckle rumble through him at the long lines of nonsense his time on the keyboard had left in Minimus’s document.

::But he doesn’t know?::

::Of course not. He’s had a lot of alts, but never a beast-mode.::

::You didn’t tell him?::

::I didn’t know till he asked me to come investigate your behavior. Truthfully, I had assumed it was the insecticon.::

Of all things, Minimus looked horrified, snapping his helm back around to look at Ravage.

::Do I smell like an insecticon to you?!::

::Don’t insult me. Obviously you have a turbofox beast-mode.:: Minimus’s spark pulsed hard enough to echo through his armors, but Ravage didn’t linger on the detail. ::But heat smells like heat smells like heat, regardless of what you are.::

Finally, Ravage dropped back down to the floor, stopping to shift his weight so he could arch his back before straightening. He looked behind him where Minimus was watching, enraptured by every twitch of his tail.

::Where are you going?::

Ravage knew his face wasn’t capable of expressing emotions in a way that most mechs could read. But surely even Minimus could see the humor in his expression.

Minimus was so bad at hiding his desperation.

::That depends on you. Do you want to online tomorrow stuck in your quarters on sick leave? Or do you want to come back heat free and ready to actually get work done again?::

Minimus looked confused and conflicted, clearly unsure how to process everything being revealed to him, especially when his processor was contending with heat programming. So with a quiet ex-vent, Ravage turned and sat again.

::What other questions do you need answered?::

There was a beat, and then another. Minimus’s servos twitched at his sides, clearly resisting the urge to wring them together.

::How did you know about my, uh. Well. My true alt mode.::

Ravage flicked his tail playfully as he stood back up.

::The same way I know you’re in heat,:: he answered, slowly slinking over to rub the side of his frame against Minimus’s ankle. Minimus stumbled back and Ravage followed, slipping between the two large pedes to mark the other ankle. ::The same way I know that under all those armors of yours, you’re wet, aren’t you?::

Ravage didn’t need Minimus’s confirmation. Not when he could smell the lubricant, so thick here between Minimus’s legs that Ravage could practically taste it.

Not the mention the crunch of whatever poor part of the console had been in Minimus’s grip.

He simply looked up at Minimus expectantly.

::So?::

Minimus looked fit to burst. It took three long, deep in-vent with his optics offlined before finally he nodded.

::I’ll meet you at my quarters shortly.::

::Good.::

And then Ravage was off, strolling through the command center like nothing was amiss. He had barely made it halfway across the floor before Minimus urgently commed him, ::Wait!::

Ravage didn’t turn all the way around this time. He just looked over his shoulder, noting that Minimus had turned back towards his screen, though it was clear to anyone looking at him he wasn’t really seeing anything there.

::Will you tell Megatron?::

Ravage didn’t immediately reassure the mech. It was a serious question that deserved an honest answer. His loyalties were few, but where they did lie, they were unbreakable.

::Only if he asks. Which he won’t.::

::How can you be certain?::

::I’ve always collected secrets, Minimus,:: Ravage explained plainly. ::Some millions if I bothered to count them all. It’s simply in my nature to gather them. Megatron understands that better than most. He knows I have them and that I’ll share the ones he needs.::

Ravage had started across the floor again, only pausing when Megatron looked up from his datapad.

“It’s being handled. He’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.”

When Ravage didn’t offer anything else up, Megatron frowned but nodded. “Thank you, Ravage.”

Ravage dipped his helm before heading towards the doors.

::And he knows better than to ask for the ones I don’t.::

With one last flick of his tail, Ravage entered the hallway, only glancing back as the doors began to slide shut behind him.

Minimus’s optics were like beacons, bleached white with how brightly they burned, while his mouth hung slightly agape and the edge of the console was torn to shreds in his unknowing grip. His frame was running so hot that the air around him was distorted. Poor thing looked ready to melt.

Or to drop down on all fours, begging to be mounted.

Ignorance was all that kept the rest of the crew from seeing what was clear as day, but it was for the best.

They wouldn’t have been able to give Minimus what he needed anyway.

* * *

“I’d help with the armor but, well—”

“No, no, it’s fine. Assistance tends to slow down the process anyway,” Minimus managed as he hefted the Ultra Magnus helm off and nearly panted with how quickly he cycled his ventilations. Ravage didn’t doubt it as he watched from where he sat on the berth. Minimus was quick to expertly unlatch each piece of the armor, slowed only by the trembling of his digits, stumbling in his haste. Minimus even winced harshly when one piece slipped from his servos and landed on the floor with a loud crash.

It was endearing to see Minimus reach down for it, as if to right it, check it for scratches, whatever, before being hit with a full frame shudder and darting his servos back to the legs of the armor so he could escape them.

It wasn’t every day Ravage got to watch such a proper mech be consumed by his heat.

“I really do apologize, I’m not usually so—”

“—In heat?”

Minimus actually huffed with something close to amusement, soft and nervous and much more ex-vent than laugh.

“Yes. Quite.”

Ravage shifted his weight to try to relieve the pressure of his interested spike where it was still locked away behind his panel.

As soon as Minimus was clear of the last piece of the Ultra Magnus armor, he stepped towards the berth, already asking, “So how should we—” before Ravage lifted a pede to stop him.

“While I’m sure we’d have a lovely time with this armor, I’ll need to interface with your true form to relieve the heat.”

“Ah,” Minimus croaked before clearing his vocalizer, “right, of course. Right.”

The removal of the second armor was a slower process due to the trembling of his digits worsening. And it wasn’t just rising lust delaying Minimus.

Ravage huffed.

“Have you done this before?”

“I’ve interfaced before,” Minimus snapped. A touchy subject, and Ravage supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised the mech had been questioned about that enough to be bitter. But—

“I meant while in heat.”

The helm had finally been popped off, and _oh_, the armor apparently _had_ done some to stem the waves of pheromones. Ravage nearly felt like he was swimming in the scent of Minimus’s need.

Minimus chewed his lip briefly.

“Only my brother knew about my alt mode, and we didn’t discuss it much.”

“You didn’t relieve each other’s heats?”

Another slip and Minimus’s torso armor split down the sides before he could grasp the pieces. Two large slabs clattered to the floor just beyond his outreached servos.

“Dammit!” Minimus cursed, face contorting with frustration and shame, optics avoiding Ravage. “I’m sorry, I—I’m not normally—”

“—In heat,” Ravage reminded him, gentle but stern, as he stood back up on all four pedes. “Come here.”

“But I’m not finished—!”

“Hush. Just come here.”

Perhaps Minimus looked a little silly, his true self revealed from the waist up while the rest was still hidden under a pelvis and pair of legs that looked comically large in comparison, but Ravage kept his humor to himself. He beckoned Minimus to stand at the edge of the berth before lifting up onto his hind legs and letting his two front pedes settle on the mech’s shoulders.

And then Ravage began to purr, nuzzling against Minimus’s helm and neck as he did so, allowing the vibrations of his frame to transfer where their plating met and the sound of it to drown Minimus’s audio receptors.

And slowly, bit by bit, the tension in Minimus’s frame eased. His panting lost the edge of frustration and then finally, _finally_, Minimus slumped.

And he whined so sweetly when he leaned into Ravage.

“You’re fine, Minimus,” Ravage rumbled. “It’s normal to feel out of sorts during a heat. If I’m being frank, I’m impressed you have any processor left at all.”

Another amused huff, just as breathy and nervous, but there was a kernel of honesty in it.

“I’ve worked through enough of them to keep some fraction of my sanity.”

Ravage pulled back just enough that he could push his nose against Minimus’s cheek before holding the mech’s gaze. He kept his purr steady though against Minimus’s chest.

“It’s also all too normal to feel shame during your heat. Very few of us have made it this far without some form of self-hatred for how we were created.”

Minimus’s optics flickered and his vocalizer audibly popped from multiple attempts to reset itself.

Ravage bumped Minimus’s nose with his own before the mech could further spiral.

“I know. But it’s alright. You’ll finish getting out of your armor and ask me all questions you have, and I’ll handle the rest. We’ll end your heat, you’ll recharge, and it will be over.” Ravage leaned in again, rubbing the other side of Minimus’s helm, and purred harder when he felt Minimus’s frame rumble in an attempt to respond in kind, encouraging the behavior. “Then we can have a rousing discussion on the long term effects of the Senate’s stance on beast-modes over breakfast. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

That got Ravage something that could actually be considered a chuckle.

“It does, actually.”

“Good. Now get those legs off and ask your questions.”

It was hard to pull away from Minimus now that his pheromones had fully flooded Ravage’s systems and he had the mech pushing into each nuzzle, seeking out his touch, his scent, his _mark_. Ravage’s programming was roaring with want.

But despite what some thought, having a beast-mode didn’t make him a beast.

So Ravage settled back on the berth, and after needing a moment to find his way back through the haze of heat, Minimus shook his helm and followed suit.

“Will I need to transform?”

“Into your beast-mode?” Minimus nodded as servos dug into the space between armor and his true frame, optics dimming as he clearly tried to ignore the way his whole frame trembled with want, focusing on his task and the conversation. Truthfully it was helping Ravage as well to ignore the pulsing of his spike where he was still keeping it trapped behind his modesty panel. “I don’t believe so, no. My understanding is that for mechs like you who can transform into and out of their beast-mode, it’s the same spike and valve regardless of which form you take. The shape just changes a bit. So in theory it shouldn’t matter.”

Minimus nodded again, looking temporarily relieved before his face scrunched up again.

There was a click in the armor, but Minimus stopped moving, trapped on a proverbial precipice of his own making.

“Is there a possibility that I might… that reproduction is possible?”

“Is that why you didn’t relieve your heat with your brother?” When Minimus frowned, Ravage chuckled and said, “I won’t apologize for being nosy. But to answer your question, I was built without the ability to reproduce. The Senate hardly wanted my kind running around and breeding an insurrection. So no, I won’t be filling you up with my whelps tonight.”

Minimus’s optics flared as he swallowed a moan.

And with one last click and hiss of hydraulics, the last of the armor fell away.

And _oh_, Minimus’s panels had long lost the battle, his spike rigid and bouncing above where his inner thighs glistened with lubricant, the smell of his wet valve making Ravage’s mouth water.

“Is it normal to want that during heat?” Minimus managed to ask – whispered really – and Ravage couldn’t keep his panel closed any longer. Not with the charge raging through his lines.

“Oh yes. Very,” Ravage confirmed as his spike pressurized. Minimus’s optics jumped to it, watching as it reached full pressurization and the spines flexed out from where they had been hidden in the plating. “And knowing the risk isn’t truly there makes it that much easier to enjoy the fantasy.”

There was concern etched into Minimus’s face, but still he stepped closer, one knee lifting to the berth to get on and consequently exposing the pretty folds of his valve, flushed with energon and dripping lubricant.

“Will it hurt?”

“The spines look more dangerous than they are,” Ravage explained as he finally stood, bumping the underside of Minimus’s chin with the top of his helm. Minimus’s frame was quicker to attempt purring in response this time and it was easy to draw the mech up onto the berth fully. “They’re not sharp enough to injure you.”

“But I’ll feel them nonetheless.” Minimus moved to lay on his back, which wasn’t really how Ravage wanted to take him, but Ravage couldn’t find he really minded when the mech’s legs parted and his folds spread enough to expose the biolights blinking fitfully in his valve. The mech was used to interfacing with mechs lacking a beast-mode, so it was understandable that his proclivities would reflect that.

Minimus shivered and softly keened beautifully when Ravage rubbed his cheek along Minimus’s inner thigh, lapping at the lubricant staining the pristine white plating.

“Yes, Minimus, you’ll feel them.”

Hips jolted up against Ravage’s muzzle as he leaned in to lick at the seam of Minimus’s valve, the taste sharp with charge and yet more pheromones. As if Ravage needed anymore motivation.

“If you were just any mech, my spike would be uncomfortable. Sharp and a bit painful. Some like it, of course, but most don’t. But fortunately for us both, you will.”

Minimus made a pitiful noise of complaint when Ravage lifted his helm and then stepped out from between his thighs. It was short work to grab a pillow with his dentae though, and once back, Minimus readily lifted his hips so that Ravage could push it under, bringing the mech’s valve up to a more comfortable level for Ravage’s hips to reach.

“The sensory receptors in your valve are primed for stimulation. When my spines rake against them, it will cause a cascade effect with your programing and your heat,” Ravage explained as he moved into position, one forepede on each side of Minimus’s torso, back legs bent between Minimus’s spread ones. “They will encourage your frame to prepare for carrying, and by extension increase your pleasure so you’ll want me to frag you longer and fill you deeper to ensure it.”

Ravage moved so his spike brushed Minimus’s valve. Spines caught on mesh, tugging before releasing only to get caught on another section, over and over again.

And Minimus threw his helm back, gasping a whine and arching up against Ravage, closer to his spike and its spines.

“_Oh_.”

“Mmhm,” Ravage hummed, though it quickly became a full frame purr as he nosed into the junction between Minimus’s neck and shoulder, lapping at the cabling there. “Any other questions, or shall we get started?”

Servos landed on his sides, shaking as they clung.

“Is there anything I need to do?”

“You’re in heat,” Ravage reminded him once more, moving to lick his cheek. Minimus grimaced, and Ravage couldn’t help licking the tip of his nose as well, just to see the way it wrinkled. The discontent expression disappeared instantly when Ravage shifted again, the head of his spike pressing against the opening of Minimus’s valve. “All you need to do is let me have you.”

Minimus’s jaw was slack, mouth agape as he panted, and his servos tightened their hold on Ravage, pulling at him as his hips lifted off the pillow, trying to drag him inside.

“If you would.”

It was so proper, so out of place, and Ravage couldn’t help but oblige, pushing inside Minimus in one slow, smooth, glorious thrust.

Minimus was so hot and so wet and so pliant around his spike, easily accepting Ravage before clamping down to hold him inside, to drag him deeper and deeper and deeper, and Ravage’s helm swam as he shifted his pedes to center himself. Beneath him, Minimus was bent back, helm tipped as his optics flickered and his mouth hang open as he choked on a shout. Judging by the rolling of his hips up towards Ravage though, Minimus certainly found it pleasurable.

When Ravage pulled out and his spines dragged along the walls of the rippling valve, Minimus _did _cry out.

“Ha-ahh, that’s – _hah_!”

“Good?”

“Yes!” Minimus confirmed before he bit down on his lip, as if it could do anything to muffle his whimper.

Ravage growled out, “Good,” before thrusting back in.

It should have been easy to set a rhythm. And it was, at first. Minimus clung to Ravage as he fragged into him, panting and moaning, helm turned to one side so Ravage could lap and nip at his neck. It wasn’t quite how Ravage’s instincts pushed him to take Minimus, but it was still good, so so good as Minimus writhed on his spike.

But then Minimus’s pedes started to slip and slide on the sheets in a desperate bid to gain purchase and push up against Ravage, throwing off the pace.

“Relax,” Ravage growled. When Minimus still bucked up, Ravage placed one of his pedes on Minimus’s chest, pushing him back down into the berth. Minimus’s valve clenched down, belaying his eagerness for the display of dominance. But still, a spark deep _whine _welled up from beneath Ravage’s claws as Minimus squirmed.

Minimus’s optics were hazy, giving away how deep in his heat the mech was now, but the space between was twisted.

“I don’t—I’m sorry, but I need something else. I don’t know what, but – ngh – not like this, I need—!”

“Shh.” Ravage leaned in to nuzzle Minimus’s overheated cheek, soothing while pulling his spike out. The long drag of his spined spike had Minimus moaning long and low, but once it was gone altogether his servos scrambled at Ravage’s frame at the absence. Still, Ravage shushed him while giving him room. “I know, Minimus, I know. Roll over. It’ll be better.”

Minimus frowned but did as Ravage told him, rolling onto his front and immediately getting his knees under him, lifting his aft up in the air. His front however stayed close to the berth, leaving his back in a gorgeous arc.

“Like this?” Minimus asked, as if he wasn’t a vision to behold.

“Oh, Minimus,” Ravage purred as he moved in to sprawl across Minimus’s back, rubbing his muzzle against the nape of Minimus’s neck. “You’re perfect.”

Ravage couldn’t say if Minimus’s keen was due to his words or his spike fitting back inside like the mech’s valve was made for Ravage to sink into.

And at the moment, it didn’t matter.

Ravage quickly picked up a rhythm again as he rutted into Minimus, able to press in deeper from behind, to scrape at new sensors that had Minimus crying out. His servos were tangled with the sheets he was panting into, valve clenching tight as excess lubricant beaded around Ravage’s spike.

Minimus’s valve was like a vice grip when Ravage mouthed at the top edge of his back plating before sinking his fangs in.

“_Oh_! Oh, oh, Ravage, _hah_!”

_This _is what Ravage’s programming had wanted, and Ravage couldn’t find he disagreed. It felt good to have Minimus beneath him like this. To _rut _into Minimus like this.

It felt so right.

The tight furnace of Minimus’s valve was spiraling further down, making it near impossible to move inside, signaling how close Minimus was to release and how soon Ravage could follow after.

But he didn’t. The calipers loosened instead of finishing their cycle, before trying again, and again.

Each time failing to tip into overload.

Ravage slowed to just a gentle grind, releasing Minimus’s plating to ask gruffly, “What do you need?”

And Minimus _growled_, and it was only then that Ravage noticed he had the sheets trapped between his blunt teeth.

“_Minimus_.”

The sheets were released and Minimus leaned one cheek against the berth to look up at Ravage, chagrinned.

“I—”

“No apologies.”

Minimus shivered and nodded, optics so bright they were nearly white.

“I know you said I wouldn’t need to, but I – I think I might need to transform.”

A seed of panic grew in Ravage’s spark. But he could stop. He _could._

“Do you want to stop then?”

Minimus bit down on his lip and shook his helm.

“No. I need this so damn badly.”

“So then you—”

“Would you frag me in my beast-mode?”

A sudden thunderstorm of charge cascaded down Ravage’s spine, leaving his processor spinning and his belly tightening. Minimus yelped when Ravage jolted his hips forward and purred, and then groaned mournfully when Ravage pulled out completely again.

“Go ahead and transform.”

“It won’t bother you?”

“Do I look like I would be bothered by a beast-mode?” Ravage asked, amused as he slipped off of Minimus’s frame to give him room. When Minimus stared at him, surprised, Ravage felt his spark pulse something warm and tender that had nothing to do with Minimus’s pheromones. “I would never squander such a gift.”

Because it was one thing to discover secrets.

But to be trusted with such a secret was a gift.

And for a moment, it was like the heat broke as Minimus looked at him, seemingly caught between a million emotions.

And then he transformed.

Minimus’s beast-mode was stream-lined much like Ravage’s. There was no doubt he was a turbofox, but he was slimed down to the barest components. Even his tail was surprisingly short, more stump than anything, as if it had been cropped. And perhaps it had been for all Ravage knew.

But his muzzle was what caught Ravage’s attention. The area above his mouth but below his nose was dark, and given the natural curves and gathering in the middle, it looked surprisingly like the facial insignia Minimus bore in his root mode.

And when Ravage leaned in to lick his nose, Minimus grimaced and shook his helm away from the attention in a way that was endearingly similar.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Why indeed,” Ravage mused as he continued to crowd Minimus, though now to rub against him, nuzzling and purring. “Perhaps it’s just because I like you, Minimus.”

And when Minimus purred in response, he seemed surprised, as if he hadn’t meant to. Which perhaps he hadn’t. It wasn’t like Ravage’s own, more breathy as it was forced through his vents instead of generated from his core, but it was as close as a turbofox could get.

And suddenly Ravage couldn’t mount him fast enough.

It was easy after that. Natural. Ravage climbed over him and Minimus folded, chest down and aft up, cropped tail moved to the side to give Ravage easy access to his valve. Once they were joined it was a quick but incredible climb. Minimus had the perfect piece of plating on the back of his neck for Ravage to bite down on as he rutted into him, each drag of his spines also dragging a low whine from Minimus until, finally, his valve spiraled tight enough to be on the verge of painful, and Minimus howled with his overload as Ravage filled him with his transfluid.

It took a moment for Ravage to find his senses again through the haze of his pleased programing.

However, when he tried to pull out, Minimus _yipped _in complaint.

They both went very still until Minimus cleared his vocalizer, obviously embarrassed.

“Wait. I meant wait.”

Another silent moment passed. Ravage nosed into the nearest of Minimus’s vents that he could reach.

Ah. His frame was still pumping out pheromones.

“Again?”

Minimus shuddered and his pedes kneaded at the berth under him while his hips quivered.

“If you would.”

“With pleasure, Minimus.”

* * *

It was only after the third overload that Minimus finally tried to pull away instead of push back, so Ravage sent the command for his spines to recede, not wishing to irritate the mech’s no doubt over-sensitized valve as he pulled out.

As soon as he was clear, Minimus’s modesty panel snapped shut and he collapsed into a sprawl, his panting still heavy but with the sort of cadence that suggested there was an end in sight. Given a couple of minutes, his frame would finally cool.

Ravage bent his helm towards the nearest of Minimus’s vents, taking stock of the cocktail expelled. There were still some lingering pheromones, but with each ventilation cycle the concentration was dropping. It was as clear an indication that the heat had run its course as any.

“It’s over,” Ravage assured as he folded his legs under himself next to Minimus, keeping their frames in contact as he nudged at Minimus’s helm. Minimus’s only response was a huff. So Ravage nudged him again and asked, “How do you feel?”

“I feel sufficiently ravaged,” Minimus rumbled, sounding put upon to even be asked.

Ravage snorted, which evolved into a snicker, and when Minimus onlined an optic to look at him curiously, Ravage’s frame shook with his quiet laughter.

“What?”

“You really don’t realize what you just said, do you?”

“What I… oh.” Minimus’s optics brightened with understanding. “I hadn’t meant to make a joke.”

“I know. It wouldn’t have been amusing otherwise.” Ravage shifted even closer, bringing their muzzles close enough that he could lick out at Minimus’s nose again, just to watch the irritated grimace. Minimus didn’t move away though.

“There’s nothing I can do to break you of that habit now, is there?”

“Probably not, no.”

Minimus’s optics offlined again and he nuzzled into the sheets, his frame finally shifting to curl up.

“Will you be comfortable recharging like this, or do you need to transform?”

Minimus’s ventilations slowed just as Ravage had expected, but not enough to indicate he had fallen into recharge just yet.

“I actually recharge best while in this form,” Minimus softly admitted, still with his optics offlined and his face half buried in the sheets.

Interesting, considering Ravage often slipped through the ventilation shafts of the ship, unable to break old habits of needing to keep tabs on those around him. Never had he seen Minimus recharge without wearing at least one of his armors, let alone in his beast-mode.

“Do you do so often?” Ravage asked anyway.

“No.” His optics onlined, dim and full of something Ravage couldn’t rightly name. His vocalizer reset audible, but whatever he had meant to say didn’t come right away. Not until Ravage bumped their noses together, watching intensely as Minimus gave him a look. “You really are nosy.”

“So I warned you.”

Minimus ex-vented sharply, somewhere between irritation and fondness. But his expression softened as he again buried his face in the sheets, optics unable to meet Ravage’s.

“The last time I felt safe recharging like this was when I stayed with my brother.”

His long dead brother.

It had easily been millennia then. Most likely hundreds of them, if not perhaps _thousands_. Regardless of the exact number, was a long, _long_ time to be the sole protector of a secret.

And then there it was again. That warm and tender pulse in Ravage’s spark.

Because Minimus wasn’t alone with his secret anymore.

Ravage closed the small gap between their faces, nuzzling first against Minimus’s muzzle and then up and over it, tucking Minimus under his chin. Next he lifted a fore limb up and over Minimus’s frame, pulling them close together so that Minimus could curl into him.

“I’ll wake you if anyone comes looking.”

That Ravage would make sure no one else found Minimus recharging like this didn’t need to be said. Not when Minimus gave a weak nod and shuffled closer still, burying his nose in Ravage’s neck with a tired huff.

“And we’ll have breakfast together tomorrow?”

That breathy turbofox purr had picked up again, and this time it was Ravage’s turn to respond with his own.

“If you would.”

“I would.”


End file.
